


Lazy Sunday Afternoon

by Ivyfics (ivannab)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Body Worship, Bottom Kuroo, Established Relationship, I’m sorry but the Leg kink is back, Lingerie, M/M, Supportive boyfriend Kuroo Tetsurou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 02:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14439348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivannab/pseuds/Ivyfics
Summary: On the screen there are, well…There are wonderful, beautiful things that would look infinitely more interesting on the body next to his than on the person modeling them on the computer. Rows and rows of lace, and cotton, and—is that mesh?Kuroo helps Tsukki shop for lingerie.





	Lazy Sunday Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xladysaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xladysaya/gifts).



> Hello! This particular Kurotsuki is a commission for [Xladysaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xladysaya/pseuds/xladysaya)! You have the best ideas and I hope I made it justice! ilu<3
> 
> This work is part of the series [Being Gross Verse.](https://archiveofourown.org/series/768096)

There are very few things Tetsurou likes more than a lazy Sunday afternoon like today's. They watched a movie, some slasher film that made them giggle at the terrible fake blood and even worse acting, followed by a slightly better (but not _good_ ) ghost film.

After some popcorn, and kisses, and then Tetsurou cleaning up the popcorn that scattered from his trying and failing to start a popcorn war, Kei snatched his laptop back and they each faded back to doing their own thing for a while.

It was nice. 

_ Was. _

Now Tetsurou is over checking his social media and trading increasingly ridiculous snaps with Bokuto, the room too dim to keep sending them, and he wants attention from the pretty blonde laying next to him. 

Kei’s feet are tucked under the pillow next to Tetsurou, giving him the perfect opening to grab him by the ankle and absentmindedly run his thumb over it in circles. There’s not even a peep from Kei, not a hum of acknowledgment or the swift kick to his ribs he usually gets when Tetsurou goes from gentle to ticklish. 

Seeing how far he can take it, he moves from Kei’s ankle to his calf, feeling the soft fabric covering Kei’s legs from the outside of his thigh and up to his hip. He pokes at Tsukki hip hard, getting nothing but a bored groan and a hip bump back. 

“What are you doing?”

Kei’s voice is low. He’s responding on autopilot, focused on the screen. “Browsing.”

The light radiating from it is the only thing keeping the room from plunging into darkness, white and blue rays diffusing softly over the planes of Kei’s cheeks, his shoulder, all the way to the curve of his bare back where he lays on his stomach. Kei’s glasses are on the nightstand, no glass or reflection hindering Tetsurou’s admiration for the way the light falls on the highest peak of his cheekbone, all the way to the hollow of his clavicle. 

Blinds shut tight since it was bright and orange, they’ve been ignoring being actual humans that go and do things outside in favor of not doing that. Now the sky outside is a quiet black that seeps in and bounces off the shut door, isolating them from whatever might be going on in the world beyond the four walls that surround them and each other. 

Tetsurou stretches, extending his arm and shaking off the tightness of leaning on it for too long when browsing through his phone before crawling to face away from the headboard. When he’s parallel to where his boyfriend hugs a pillow to his chest to keep upright, he hooks his chin on Kei’s shoulder to be a busybody and see what he’s looking at. 

On the screen there are, well…  

There are wonderful, beautiful things that would look infinitely more interesting on the body next to his than on the person modeling them in the computer. Rows and rows of lace, and cotton, and—is that mesh? 

Tetsurou stares and stares some more, eyes roaming the tiny thumbnails in varied stages of undress. His eyes catch on a particular pair, some flimsy, gorgeously transparent thing that is less than a third of a step up from being naked while being so much more. He makes some sort of noise and clears his throat to pretend he’s not as thirsty as he is. “Those look nice. Red looks good on you.” 

Kei is not buying it. “You say that because it’s your favorite color.”

“Nooooo,“ Tetsurou plays along, “that is  _ so _ not it.”

He gets a chuckle but not a lot more, Kei’s face entirely too close to the screen to be any kind of healthy or conducive to not fucking up his eyes even more.

Tetsurou manages about a whole minute of silence before, “Do you always shop online?” 

“Yeah.” 

After it’s clear that there’s no follow-up, he says, “You are a mountain of information. A conversational guru.”

That earns him a “Yup,” Kei’s lip popping at the end. 

And nothing else.  

“Tsukki,” he whines. 

Kei breaks, mockingly whining back. “Tetsu.”  He also untangles his free hand from the clutches of his pillow and brings it to scratch at the side of Tetsurou’s head, running it slowly through his hair. Whatever pouting Tetsurou was doing melts away in the wake of Kei’s fingers through his scalp, his body going lax and leaning most of his weight on Kei’s side. It’s nice to have someone who understands that what he really means is  _ ‘pay attention to me’. _

After a couple of scratches, Kei elaborates. “I tried going in-person when I moved here with the whole ‘I’m shopping for my girlfriend’ excuse—” at which Tetsurou gives a sharp laugh because  _ girlfriend _ — “but I still kept getting stares. It was kind of uncomfortable so I stopped.”

Tetsurou’s heart shrinks a little at the image of Kei, alone,  just trying to shop and minding his own business, being uncomfortable enough to stop. Kei has mentioned before how it feels for him some days, like there’s a magnifying glass following his every move, like he’s two steps behind from everyone else, like there’s a script he doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to think about it, especially if it was before Bokuto did him the solid of his life and forcibly dragged their asses to a conbini to magically run into Kei. 

Tetsurou looks at Kei’s profile, sees how he hovers over a particular set that stirs some interest in his gut, reluctant to scroll down. “What about that one?”

Kei freezes. 

“That’s a garter belt. And stockings.”

“Yeah,” Tetsurou sighs out, hopeful. 

Kei looks at him, confusion on his face. “I can’t wear a garter belt.”

There’s no else on this earth that should wear a garter belt more than Kei. “Why not?”

Kei sputters for only a second before settling on, “It’s not practical for everyday.”

“So don’t wear it everyday. You like it,” he insists gently, as to not spook Kei away. He comes on strong anyway when he can’t keep the thirst out of his croaky voice, looking the set over and drinking in the mental image of Kei halfway to naked in a strappy number in front of him. “That one looks  _ really  _ nice.”

They stare at each other for a second. Tetsurou almost breaks, almost, because Kei has to squint to see him properly in the dark when he’s glassless. He has to bite down the inside of his cheek to stop his lips from curling. It’s worth it when Kei gets that he’s not kidding, and looks back to the set he’s been eyeing with a different kind of glint in his eye. Hesitantly, Kei clicks on it. 

Tetsurou deserves an award for this. All the awards, any award. 

He’s a hero to everything holy and beautiful, truly, the maste—

“There’s no sizing chart for that one.”

Tetsurou deflates. 

They move on to the next one but he can tell Kei is a little disappointed. He doesn’t get why Kei wouldn’t get the ones he likes, passing over them to look at more ‘acceptable’ ones, whatever that means. Then again, none of Tetsurou’s issues have ever been about how his body looks, or if he should like the things that he likes—and fuck  _ that _ dude with the sharpest, driest, hottest burning pitchfork hell has to offer, in particular. If he ever crosses paths with ex-boyfriend number three...

Tetsurou takes upon himself to prod Kei on checking out the less-practical ones he likes with soft hums and words of approval. Kei is—for once—warm even without Tetsurou draped all over him. Tetsurou seizes the chance to slowly trace fingers over his back, following the dip of his spine all the way to where his waistband hugs low on his hip. He interrupts with a bite here or there because he’s handsy like that. 

You can't expect him not to be when Kei is so soft, relaxed to the point where he’s almost boneless. When all he does is stretch out so Tetsurou has better access to the column of his neck while he looks for things that are going to drive Tetsurou crazy at one point or another. 

Even more than that, he can imagine Kei’s demeanor when he wears things that make him feel good. It’s an amazing thing to see, even better to experience. They way he likes to idly feel the textures against his skin while getting dressed, almost not touching. Tetsurou doesn’t think he’s aware of it. 

It’s endearing. Cute. 

He kisses a line up Kei’s shoulder just because he can. Then he rubs his cheek on Kei because he knows it makes him laugh and Tetsurou craves that sound like he craves food. He needs it to be alive, chases after it with stupid jokes and crazy antics.

They kiss lazy for a while, Kuroo flopping back down and helping Kei pick things that he likes. Tetsurou manages to stay like that for another hour and a little more, up until he stretches and gets up to make some food because _ we have to eat something green, Tsukki, popcorn is not gonna feed that gigantic frame of yours for long. _

* * *

Tetsurou thinks about it. He thinks about it a lot.

Gives it massive amounts of thought, especially when he sees Kei run his hands through the drawer of goodies to feel the fabric with his fingers before picking out one to wear for the day. Ponders the  _ ‘buts’  _ and  _ ‘ifs’ _ of it when they spend another lazy Sunday afternoon together and Tetsurou’s encouragement gets him a smile and Kei purchasing something he kept passing over because it wasn’t practical and a bunch of other things that made sense only to Kei. 

He makes up his mind when the set Kei bought at Tetsurou’s prodding arrives and Kei unpacks it with barely contained glee. There’s a light blush high on his cheeks when he gingerly picks out the see-through fabric. He’s mesmerized by the feel of it against his hands, forgetting Tetsurou is in the room with him in his excitement. 

They’re sitting on the living-room floor at Kei’s, blankets piled around them and something gets stuck in Tetsurou’s chest at the sight of it. It doesn’t miss him that there’s probably not a lot of people who’ve had the privilege of seeing Kei like this, open and sharing of things that are meant only for himself—and maybe Tetsurou, every once in a while.

(Sometimes he wonders if he’s the only one who has, but he stops before his heart gets too big, too fast and implodes.) 

Kei is flushed, and giddy, and gorgeous in a sweater that has a hole on the collar, one that belonged to Tetsurou for exactly five years before Kei’s cold grubby thiefy hands stole it from him. He tried to be sneaky but the joke’s on him because Tetsurou would give him anything at all with just a bat of an eyelash or the tilt of a word. 

Tetsurou loves him. Loves him so much. 

Loves the way he looks when he has just gotten up and is trying to blink himself awake as much as he does when he strips down to nothing while he makes Tetsurou wait in another room just for the sake of first impressions, fitting himself with delicate things. 

How he grins when he comes out and Tetsurou’s heart stops because  _ God damn, how the hell is this my life?  _

How confidence looks on him when he shows off thin, coal arches and straps, like bridges that connect tight mesh to the opaque bands at the top of his thighs, crowning the long, long journey down to the tip of his toes. 

How the top of the ensemble is just low enough to show off the tattoos at his hips, the tiny swirl of color that peeks on the top of his shoulder, and Tetsurou’s mouth runs dry and wet at the thought of tracing them with his tongue for what must be the eight-hundred-thousandth time. 

He thinks he might die of this one day. If there is any way to die of loving someone too much, then he’s as well as buried.

Also, his boner is  _ killing _ him. 

Kei is killing him, sauntering over without an ounce of shame or self-consciousness. Kei walks to Tetsurou and gives an amused peck to where he’s slack-jawed, getting as close as he can, giving him the mind-numbing pleasure of having Kei flushed against his body. Tetsurou has spent many a sleepless night trying to list the things he might have done in past lives to be able to have this, to wake up and have a life with friends and love and happiness, to deserve being the one Kei decides to obliterate with poise.  

Tetsurou kneels without prompting. Without thought, either. His body responds lacking any input while his mind tries to process. It’s not the most elaborate or fanciful they saw, it’s a clean look that drives him crazy when he feels the fabric that covers Kei’s legs rub against his cheek. This silent synchrony is one they’ve done before, many a time. 

Tetsurou knows Kei loves his mouth, likes to see it run and bring the filthiest, truest things to life. It riles both of them up, gets them rearing and ready to go. 

Tetsurou doesn’t want that. He wants soft. 

He starts slow, so he mouths at the only strip of exposed skin, chomping down and leaving behind a violet bruise. He bites again and leaves another, then one more, because he can. Because Kei hasn’t said not to. He doesn’t stop until there’s a smattering of violet marks painted right above the thick band that connects the stocking to the garter, leading to the inside of his thigh, and Kei is going to have to borrow Tetsurou’s compression shorts just to hide them.  

It wouldn’t be the first time. Once, when Tetsurou had gotten a little too carried away, he had to borrow one of Bokuto’s long spares. 

It’s a sight to see. 

He pauses, waiting for any signal from Kei and gets none. 

Sometimes, just sometimes, Kei makes him wait. When he is wearing that particular smile and an edge that hasn’t quite bled yet into his eyes yet, he makes Tetsurou sit and wait until he decides Tetsurou is allowed to touch or do anything other than drool all over himself. 

It’s only happened twice or thrice but there are times when Kei lets the power he holds over Tetsurou go to his head, he gets mean and doesn’t let Tetsurou touch  _ at all. _ Leaves him hard and hot and wanting as he watches as Kei go about giving himself the pleasure he deserves.

Tetsurou is being left alone to do as he pleases, so he does what he wants. He wants to pay his respects, wants Kei to hear the heavy sigh that leaves his lips to hit pale skin and to feel how breathless he gets. Wants his hands to leave a trail as they run down his thigh with the thick black edge of the seam over strong muscle and pliant body. 

Kei doesn’t stop him or get that hard edge that makes Tetsurou’s stomach drop. Instead, he hums at the peck left on his hip, fingers tangling more on the dark mess atop Tetsurou’s head. Tetsurou looks up at him, drunk and so, so hot. He’s burning. “This is the best day of my life.” 

Kei laughs openly at that, and paired with the smile that comes out of him, Tetsurou wants to say whatever it will take to make him do it again. “You say that every day.”

“Every day with you is the best day of my life.”

Kei’s breath catches at that, and he closes his eyes like he’s in pain. Tetsurou grins. He’s been there, he knows the way love moves through a body when you feel so much that it  _ hurts _ . When Kei opens his eyes after a big, deep breath there’s all of that in there. Molten and sweet, “You sappy dork.” 

Kei’s fingers in his hair tighten, gripping him suddenly and pressing Tetsurou against the top of his thigh, nose against where Kei is half-hard. Tetsurou bites back a moan at the tug, letting a shiver run down his spine. 

“Suck me.” 

There’s also this, sometimes. When Kei gets bossy and Tetsurou is more than happy to comply. Kei’s voice is soft, padding around every sense Tetsurou has and leaving him nothing but a goopy, compliant mess. Tetsurou nods and gets to work.  

It really is the best day of his life.

* * *

Tetsurou finds him in his usual spot by a tiny campus café. Akaashi is easy to look for, once you know his patterns. He walks up to Akaashi slowly, taking his time in thinking what he’s about to say. 

It’s a longshot. The longest of longshots. 

But, if there’s anyone he trusts enough to lend him a hand with this, it’s Akaashi. That Kuroo saw the proofs of a particular shoot Bokuto help him with that showcased something very similar to what he’s looking for doesn’t hurt, either. 

Kuroo doesn’t waste a second after he seats himself next to Akaashi. “Hello, dear friend. I need your help.”

Akaashi looks at him for a second before putting down his tea and letting out a heavy, resigned sigh. “What did you do this time?”

“What did I—Akaashi, what do you think of me?”

Akaashi gives him a specific look that Tetsurou is sure he stole from Kei. He had to. There’s no mistaking that expression. On the other hand, Tetsurou has asked Akaashi for questionable things in the past. “Alright, fine. It’s for Tsukki.” 

Immediately, Akaashi’s demeanor changes. It’s like flipping a switch. Tetsurou would be a little miffed, even jealous if he didn’t get it. Tsukki never asks for anything from any of them other than Tetsurou, and even then it’s after he’s thought it through in every way possible. He’s also very cute, and nice, and discreetly considerate under that layer of snark and everyone wants to give him all the things, including Tetsurou and apparently Akaashi. 

Bokuto isn’t constrained by mortal ties and does things for him without care. 

Tetsurou backtracks before there can be any misunderstandings to pay for later, “Well, for me and Tsukki. Mostly for him. But a lot for me, too.”

Whatever amount Kei benefits from this seems to be enough. The next thing out of Akaashi’s mouth is, “What do you need?”

* * *

“I have a surprise for you.”

Bokuto’s voice rises, unencumbered by the noise the shower makes. He’s got some pipes on him, evidenced by where Kei’s headphones hang limply from his ears so he can enjoy the song Bokuto belts out in the background. 

Kei looks at him over the screen of his laptop. He gauges Tetsurou for the better part of a minute before looking back down. “You look  _ too _ happy. I don’t trust it.” 

He looks happy because he is happy. There’s a lot of work to be done and one of his new kids is the biggest pain in the ass to tutor, but Akaashi managed to arrange everything just in time. Bokuto’s voice rises again, going for the high note, and Tetsurou whistles at how he hits it before turning to sit fully facing Kei. He’s in his designated spot in Tetsurou ’s and Bokuto’s shared apartment, on the corner of the couch that has the dip on the side. By designated he means Kei plopped down one day and said  _ ‘this is mine now.’ _

It used to be Bokuto’s spot. There was no contest. 

Tetsurou waits until Bokuto has quieted down for a moment. “Do you trust me?” 

Kei just looks at him again, saying nothing for as long as it takes for Bokuto to move on to the next song. “Tsukki!” 

Kei rolls his eyes at him, amused.  _ The little shit. _  “Obviously, yes. Don’t know why, though. You’ve done terrible things to me.”

“Only when you ask.” 

* * *

“Oh my god.”

You know, now that the moment has come Tetsurou is feeling a little queasy. This was all a great idea—in his head. Being up-close with the string of decisions he has made and where it has lead them is making him dizzy, heart pounding out of his chest. The walk to the shop was fine, so was standing in front of the whole-in-the-wall façade, unassuming and camouflaged on a small street without a lot of traffic. 

Kei was patient and ridiculous enough in his inquisition of where they were going that it was obvious he didn’t really want to know, not even batting an eye at the closed sign on the door. The graying lady that greeted them was great, too! Unobtrusive and letting them go through with just a nod. The sweaty hands started after they went beyond the second entrance, both of them standing like gawking idiots, Kei at the display before him and Tetsurou at his boyfriend. 

“Oh my god,” Kei repeats. 

Tetsurou voice cracks a little. “Yeah.”

Before them is the mecca of lingerie; any and all kinds, from the racier, more kink inclined to the simpler lace boyshorts Kei favors for everyday. Displays, mannequins, and hangers of all kinds, a sea of lace and silk. It suddenly hits him how off the mark this might be, makes him flounder with a rush of words. “I know it’s sudden, but I thought you’d like something like this every once in a while. Have a little fun. We don’t have to stay. We can leave at any point, and if it’s like—like, too much we can forget about this and go—”

Kei squeezes his hands with too much pressure, effectively shutting him up. What comes out of him is strangled in a way Tetsurou’s come to recognize as good. “Tetsu.”

Tetsurou takes a single breath of pure relief. “Yeah?”

Kei nods, pulling him forward, still a little hesitant but growing surer with every step. They’re alone, having the store for themselves for exactly two hours thanks to Akaashi’s pull, whatever that might be. 

“How did you find this place?”

“Akaashi. I asked him if he knew a non-judgy place where I could find stuff in my size. He worked his magic.” Tetsurou isn’t inclined to disclose that they’d be looking for things Kei could wear, not without his boyfriend’s express approval. Kei can’t really approve when it’s a surprise, can he? 

“How does Akaashi—”Kei stops, eyes dragging over to a small entryway leading up. It’s dab-smack between displays of fishnet stockings and shiny knee-high boots. Red neon runs through the sides of the walls, making the climb glow with suggestion“—nevermind. I don’t want to know.” 

Tetsurou is curious. So curious. He wants to go up and see but he’s not sure his heart is ready for it.  _ Baby steps, _ he tells himself, _ another day. _ He shakes himself out of it, getting to the matter at hand. “Tsukki,” he calls out, smirk already in place, “Let’s shop.” 

Kei looks really happy but in an understated kind of way. The way he does when the asshole that steals his seat in that one class is late and has to shamefully slink to the back while Kei basks in his victory, but better because there are only good things happening here. Kei lets go of his hand, going over the displays, touching this and that. It’s a side of him Tetsurou hasn’t experienced before and he drinks it in, trying to add this to his  _ Tsukki repertoire _ . 

Eventually, he drifts and browses on his own, letting Kei have some space to look without Tetsurou hovering over him. He finds some things that catch his eye, a lacy thing here, some silk there. It’s a different experience from how he usually shops, a different kind of feel to be surrounded by things that are so delicate and unlike what he usually looks for. It’s a nice change. 

He makes it back to the wall were stockings are stacked one above the other and spaces out for a little bit, mind getting lost in the memory of Kei and stockings together. His eyes cross in his daydream and when they focus back, he freezes.  

Tetsurou takes a single look at a high shelf above the entrance to the stairs, where a gagged mannequin is on display and flushes from head to toe,  doing a one-eighty to face something that will not kill him and out his kinks to the nice old lady who must be monitoring them through cameras. It doesn’t work because he’s met front and center with Kei making googly eyes at something that should be illegal. 

On display there is something strappy and black, two of Kei’s favorite things as Tetsurou has learned. It’s also strappy, black  _ and  _ can be described as a body cage, so Tetsurou is going to die. Full on buried, mourned, with a headstone that will read _ killed by lingerie, his boyfriend, and his thirsty dick.  _

Kei is flushed, too, but for obviously different reasons. Excitement runs through his features as he circles the mannequin. He’s like a kid on Christmas morning, and Kuroo is torn between soft and mushy, and really hard and horny. 

This is what it’s all about. Kei looks… like he should always look, at ease. Excited. Void of anything uncomfortable or pressing. Tetsurou pulls out his phone to send Akaashi seventeen grinning cat emojis.  

“Want to try it on?”

This time, when Kei looks over at him there’s no hesitation. “Yes.”

* * *

“This was a terrific, terrible idea.”

Kei meets his eyes in the mirror with mischief, hands touching the fabric that clings to his chest. “So, good?

He’s evil. His boyfriend is the evilest of evil.  _ Come see how it looks, _ he said,  _ tell me if it’s okay _ . Okay? Okay doesn’t exist in this context. Kei looks like something out of a dream. Tetsurou couldn’t hide the want in his voice even if he tried.

The best part of it? 

The best part is that Kei  _ knows  _ how he looks, all toned skin and metal rings, black ribbons and lean muscles. The only thing portraying decency in the outfit are the briefs Kei wears underneath it. Even then, they do nothing to hide how the harness pulls into the vee of his hips and frames the soft curve where his cock rests. 

All that does is make Tetsurou’s mind cannonball into how it would look with Kei hard, wet and pink all over—

“This needs to be immortalized.”

Kei pretends, of course he does. He loves torturing Tetsurou like this. 

In Tetsurou’s head this was meant to be a—a healing,  _ fun _ thing they could do together, something nice where he would be supportive and share something Kei likes with him. Tetsurou should have known better after all this time. He should have anticipated the coy look Kei throws his way with a soft, “I wouldn’t be opposed.”

_ Evil. _

Tetsurou closes his eyes and tries. Tries to keep his composure. “Don’t,” he says, trying so hard. 

He’s grateful that this dressing room is a private one, far back at the end of the shop. That there’s what feels like miles and eons between them and the outside, and that a camera in a dressing room is an iffy thing so maybe he won’t have to look at the lady ringing them up with the knowledge that she watched while Tetsurou battled with the hardness of his dick in public. 

It’s not huge, but the high-backed chair for companions to wait is comfortable and gives the room a little _ oomph _ , matching the champagne drapes that close off the changing area. The rug beneath him looks incredibly soft and the lights are dim enough to not give that garish fluorescent look. 

It’s tasteful, a lot nicer than he originally thought it would be. Every new thing, every passing glance makes him burn with curiosity as to how Akaashi even has any leverage to pull here. 

Kei strings him along and he goes easy. In any other circumstance he’d put up a good fight but at the end of the day, Tetsurou knows he’s helpless against Kei when he’s like this. “Don’t what? I’m not doing anything,” Kei says with an air of innocence around him, completely fabricated, adulterated, fake. 

Tetsurou has been so good. So  _ good.  _ He’s been polite, respectful. Was nice to the old lady when she ushered them into the dressing room. Tetsurou made a promise to himself to keep today clean and not about him or any of his appendages. He has made exactly zero dick jokes today. 

Zero. Dick. Jokes. 

“Tsukki,” he whines, slightly, “I’m trying.” 

In the end, resistance is futile. His hands find perch on Tsukki’s hips, bringing him close to feed on how he looks. How he feels. Kei wiggles closer shamelessly, enjoying being on display. “Trying to what? I don’t know what you mean.” 

Kei is impossible. “You’re so mean,” he says, leaning in to press their foreheads together.“And so hot. Why are you so hot?”

Kei’s lips curl into amusement, his arms coming up to wrap around Tetsurou’s neck.“Emotional bias?” 

“Maybe.” Tetsurou loses this little game of theirs and presses a kiss to the corner of Kei’s mouth, just to feel it curl some more. “Just a little.”

Kei chases after it this time, leaning in hard and stealing Tetsurou’s breath away. Kei’s arm at his neck wraps tighter, fingers digging in against Tetsurou’s scalp and it spurs them on, mouths growing frantic against each other. 

Whatever sweetness lingers is lost to the scrape of Kei’s teeth along Tetsurou’s bottom lip, pulling a gasp and a harder grip on bare hips. Tetsurou gets lost in it, in the feel of Kei against him, working to make Tetsurou lose his head and press harder against whatever he can.  

His fingers sink into the give of Kei’s ass and he moans, a beautiful low sound that sets Tetsurou’s skin on fire. He walks both of them until Kei’s back hits the wall, hand trailing down to pull a heavenly thigh up against his waist so he can grind up and—

Kei breaks away, panting. “We have to stop.” His eyes are closed and he looks as pained as Tetsurou feels. “I like this place. We are not fucking in a dressing room when the nice old lady could walk in or knock the door at any second. We have to be decent.” 

Tetsurou hates it. He hates it when he lets Kei’s thigh go and drops his forehead to rest on his shoulder, trying to calm down. “You’re right.”

“Just think of the old lady.”

“There goes my dick.” Tetsurou pulls back to look at Kei’s flushed face. “You do look amazing. I’m not just saying that so I can get a piece.”

Kei’s face softens in a way that sets Tetsurou’s  _ heart _ on fire. “Thank you. For this.” He sighs and leans his head back on the wall to look at Tetsurou with content.“It has been really fun.” 

Tetsurou doesn’t know what his face is doing but he’s sure it’s something dumb. “I’m glad torturing me was amusing to you.”

* * *

Somehow, they manage to run through all the things Kei wants to try on without any further incidents, just a lot of heated staring and suggestive looks. They’ve got a decent haul ready and are sorting through what they’re going to get before calling the old lady (whose name is Nakanishi-san, according to the text Akaashi sent Tetsurou a while back) so that she can ring them up. Kuroo has been planning this for a while, apparently. 

He wouldn’t  give Kei a straight answer the previous two times he’s asked, so he’s going to take a hint and not ask anymore. 

Nakanishi-san has been very kind in giving them a lot of room to roam around, not pushing for anything specific or trailing after them. She popped in once to ask how things were going—thankfully after they had been in a less compromising situation, Kuroo back on the companion’s area by himself—and to tell them to come up to her when they had decided what they were taking home. 

They sort through their picks now, Kei checking over what he definitely wants and what he can come back for later, and he is  _ definitely  _ coming back. He’s picking up the harness to try and place on his pile without it tangling when Kuroo plucks it from his hands, adding it to his. “My treat.”

Kei frowns. It’s not super expensive, but it’s the priciest thing he’s getting and Kuroo has enough on his plate to spend that (plus the stuff on his secretive buy pile) on him. Bringing him here, spending the afternoon together is enough. “Kuroo.”

Kuroo bumps him with his hip, giving him a smirk that shouldn’t be reassuring but is. “My treat,” he says again, “you’ll get the next one.” 

Kei relents. He can very rarely say no to Kuroo when he’s like this. It’s like he’s walking on air, all nice and soft and free. Like there’s not a single care in the world. He loves Tetsurou like this, so he relents and makes an internal promise to put on a show he knows his boyfriend will appreciate in the near future. He knows he doesn’t _ have _ to, Kuroo wouldn’t be okay with Kei thinking that he  owes anything for a gift, but he wants to. He gets a lot out of it, too. 

Kei goes through his buy pile, moving another pair to his get later pile, and takes a peek at Tetsurou’s. 

There’s some white lace briefs that look a little too big for Kei’s hips. An identical black pair is already put away in his buy pile, so he doesn’t think too much when he says, “White washes me out.”

Kuroo turns to smile at him slowly, and it’s that smile of his that’s all teeth and bad intentions, the one that makes Kei a little weak in the knees when he gets the full brunt of it. An alarm goes off in the back of his head, one that tells him that the feeling growing in his gut is the one prey gets when it’s been snared.  

_ This is bad, bad bad bad— _

“These ones,” Kuroo says pointedly, holding the delicate fabrics to his chest, “are not for  _ you. _ ” 

**Author's Note:**

> [The classic that Kei wears first here. ](http://devinjacob.tumblr.com/post/7162804089)   
>  [The harness they end up getting.](https://www.etsy.com/listing/226541891/harness-elastic-body-bondage-all-torso?ref=related-8)
> 
>  
> 
> You can come yell at me on:  
> [Twitter ](https://twitter.com/ivyfics)  
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